


Last Chance

by ladylizzerella



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kind of angsty, Kings Landing, One-Shot, Pre-ship, Sandor did not leave and he and Sansa have a better understanding of each other, by which i mean they regularly interact without him being drunk and furious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1200994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylizzerella/pseuds/ladylizzerella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Sansa is to wed Tyrion, she asks the Hound for a favor, thinking that she will never have another chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is set in the Kings Landing in my head, where Sandor did not leave and while that means he never offered to help Sansa escape, it also means he is still there to help her where he can as things continue to go to hell for her. Sansa has also come to realize that he generally means her no harm, and may in fact be the only "friend" she has.

Sansa ****

It had become routine for Sansa, after trying and failing to go to sleep at a decent hour, to give up and walk the castle instead. She would dress herself simply, pull on a cloak and wander the halls. After the first few times the Hound had stumbled across her alone in the night, he had begun to look for her. No matter how he railed at her for being so careless with her safety, she was not discouraged. The small hours of the night were the few in which she felt sure she would not encounter a Lannister. Seeing as how Sandor now regularly escorted her on these walks, she felt perfectly safe from the rest of the castle's inhabitants.

****

She would slip out of her room and set off in whichever direction struck her fancy. After a few minutes, the Hound would fall into step behind her, grumbling about careless little girls wasting grown men’s time. She occasionally felt guilty for his bother, but rationalized that she had never _asked_ him to walk with her. 

****

She walked to try to relax after her long, stressful days at court. Sometimes this worked, sometimes it didn’t, but either way it did ensure that she had some time alone with the only friend she had in Kings Landing.

****

On this night, Sansa did not bother trying to fall asleep. She paced her room once her maid left her for the night, wringing her hands. Eventually she settled, sitting by the window and gazing down at the yard below, waiting for it to be late enough for Sandor to expect her. 

****

A few hours before, in the throne room, King Joffrey had grinned at her viciously and announced to the court that she would wed his dear uncle Tyrion the following day. Sansa didn’t think she had successfully hidden her reaction, but she thought she’d managed to chirp something about the “great honor” before fleeing the room at her first opportunity. 

****

Hours later, and still she shook.

****

Time dragged on, but when it felt late enough, Sansa pulled a cloak on over the dress she’d worn that day. Her only concession to the hour was to pull all the pins from her hair and let it hang freely. She stepped quietly into the hallway and for a long moment simply stood. 

****

Sansa had had very little happiness in her life since leaving Winterfell, but she had not felt this desolate and afraid since Joffrey ordered her father’s death.

****

_Tomorrow I will be a Lannister_ , she thought.

****

She began to walk with no mind to her direction, eyes unseeing and thoughts bleak. She vaguely registered when the Hound fell into step with her and he made no effort to speak. They walked in silence for quite some time. 

****

“It’s late,” Sandor spoke after a while. “Let me take you back to your rooms.” 

****

When she looked up at him, he could not meet her eyes. Sansa’s gaze shied away from the terrible burn and the strange indecipherable look in his eyes, usually so angry. Instead her gaze settled on his mouth, and an idea began to form in her mind.

****

“Yes, my lord,” she replied softly. “Thank you.” 

****

They fell back into silence as Sansa began heading towards her rooms, her cage. All the while she considered her thought, which quickly became a fervent wish as she realized she would have no other chance.

****

They were on the stairs when Sansa abruptly stopped and turned around to face him. Sandor stood a few steps down before her, brow furrowing as she clasped her hands together and stared at him. 

****

“I…I would beg a favor of you, my lord.” Sansa bit her lip as he only raised his one eyebrow in response, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue. “The day King Joffrey and I were betrothed, he and I shared my first kiss. Did you know that?” 

****

Sandor shrugged. “It’s no surprise.” He didn’t seem bothered by her non-sequitur. “Might be he wouldn’t have fooled you so easily had you known a lad or two before him.” 

****

Sansa stared to the side, at the lines in the stone wall, finding she could not meet his eyes this time. She had been such a foolish child. 

****

“I will be wed tomorrow.” Sansa paused, wringing her hands for a moment before stilling them in an effort to appear collected. Despite how untrue it was, she always wanted Sandor to think her brave and noble, like a Stark should be. “After that, I will belong to my lord husband. I _will_ be faithful to him.”

****

“Aye, you will,” his deep voice rumbled. She darted a look at him, and the hard lines of his face had softened. “You’ll be a proper little bird and give the Imp no cause to hurt you.” She wondered if he thought that was reassuring. Perhaps he was trying to reassure himself.

****

Sansa could not find her words. She met his eyes again. They were nearly of a height on the stairs and she found she could hold his gaze when there was no anger in it. Her silence seemed to make the Hound uncomfortable.

****

“What favor, girl?” he asked. 

****

The answer flew from her mouth before she could find a good way to present it. She meant to be dignified in her request, to be a lady no matter how low and desperate she was then for even the slightest kindness from another human being. Instead she blurted, “Kiss me!” 

****

His head jerked away as if flinching from a blow, such was his surprise. After a beat, he snarled, “What jest is this? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

****

“Please,” Sansa interrupted, face red and hands shaking again. “Please listen. I just. I have only ever kissed Joffrey. After tomorrow, I will only ever kiss Lord Tyrion. And,” she choked, voice breaking now, “and _lay_ with him. I just want—” Sansa always tried to be eloquent, to prove she was not as stupid as all of Kings Landing seemed to think her, but for some reason when it came time to speak she always stumbled over her words. “I want at least once with— The Lannisters have taken— I want—”

****

To Sansa’s surprise, Sandor gently rescued her from her floundering instead of snapping at her for babbling like a child. 

****

“Breathe, little bird.” His hand closed over her shoulder and Sansa opened her eyes, surprised to realize she’d begun to cry. She obediently took a shuddering breath, then another, and another while Sandor’s thumb stroked back and forth across the skin above her collar. 

****

She swallowed and whispered, “I think you’re the only person here who cares what happens to me. Who has never hurt me.” The sincerity of her sadness and want colored every word and even a man as suspicious and cynical as Sandor Clegane knew she spoke honestly. “I just want to be kissed by someone who isn’t trying to k-kill my family and use me for my name.” Having finally managed to articulate her wish, Sansa began to cry softly once more. 

****

“The world’s more fucked than even I thought,” Sandor said, his typical anger resurfacing, “if you want this from a bloody dog like me.” Sansa shook her head, wanting to tell him he was much more than a dog, that he was her only friend, but she was unable to speak. “You deserve better, little bird.” His voice rasped as ever, but there was something soft about his words and Sansa felt safe. 

****

There were times when the Hound frightened her as much as anyone in Kings Landing did, but he was the only one who ever made her feel safe. 

****

“Stop crying,” he spoke normally then. “Dry your face. I’ll not kiss a weeping maid.” 

****

When she looked at him again while wiping her cheeks with her sleeves and sniffling, his mouth had twisted into what might have been a smile if his scarring did not warp the end into more of a grimace. On second thought, she considered that he may mean to grimace. 

****

His hand left her shoulder and brushed some hair from her face instead and Sansa wished he did not wear gauntlets so that she might feel his warmth. She was not often touched kindly anymore. 

****

“Smile,” he rasped, and for a moment she worried that she’d spoken aloud. But no, he meant for her to smile for him and so she did. She was still trembling but she hoped he knew that she was happy to kiss him. She smiled for him and for once did not mind someone telling her to look pretty. It was not like when Joffrey and Cersei ordered her to simper over them. When Sandor told her to smile, she thought what he was really doing was wishing she were happy.

****

_This is not like a song, but it is a kiss I asked for myself_ , Sansa thought, _from a man who is brave and gentle (to me) and strong_ , which was more than she’d thought to ever have after Ser Ilyn Payne murdered her father.

****

As he leaned in, Sansa kept her eyes open. It was the only thing she could think of to do for him in return. He always wanted her to look at him.

****

Sansa pretended for a moment that her father would have liked Sandor after getting to know him, and betrothed her to him instead. Sandor kissed her softly and his lips were warm and dry and _this is nothing like kissing Joffrey_. Sansa pretended that the next day she would wed the Hound and he would take her away from Kings Landing and never let anyone harm her ever again. She pretended to love him and that he loved her and that she had been rescued.

****

When he pulled away, her cheeks felt hot. There was a fluttery feeling in her stomach that she had not felt since she still thought Joffrey gallant and kind. Sansa found that she could not look away from Sandor.

****

“Once more. Please. I’m sorry—” He cut her off with another kiss, this one lasting longer though just as chaste, and her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. When he pulled away this time, for the briefest moment when her eyes opened again, he looked desperately sad. The expression was gone as swiftly as it appeared and he ran his hand over her hair one more time before drawing away. 

****

His voice still held that gentle quality when he broke the silence.

****

“Back to your rooms now, little bird.”

****

**Sandor**

****

_He tries not to notice the glaring disparity between his clunky gauntleted hand and the delicate skin of her cheek as he reaches out and slowly brushes her hair from her face. He tries not to think about how easily he could hurt her, tries to push aside memories of_ wanting _to hurt her in the beginning, if only to get a reaction. He tries not to think about how she has only asked him this because there is no other option and even an old burned dog is better than that twisted dwarf._

****

That halfman will be fucking her this time tomorrow, _Sandor thinks, and struggles not to clench his fist next to her face and frighten her. He will give her one kind moment to remember if it kills him._

****

_He tries not to notice how her eyes still glisten with the remnants of her tears or how her hands still tremble._

****

_“Smile,” he rasps and when her perfect mouth pulls into a shaky smile he pretends she means it. As he leans in, he pretends that they are not who they really are and instead this lovely girl asks a kiss from him because she_ wants him. 

****

_He wonders what she is pretending._

****

_As he gently presses his mouth to hers, he realizes that the little bird has kept her eyes open. He had assumed she would close her eyes and imagine a handsome knight from a song in his place, but instead she watches him kiss her. He pulls away still watching her soft blue eyes, seeing the panic that has arrested her face this whole day finally slip away and something tightens in his chest._

****

_Her face is pink when she asks him to kiss her again and he does not hesitate, taking his only chance while he can._

****


End file.
